


Heave

by vellichor_productions



Series: Get Your Fair Share of Angst-Fueled Fics Right Here. They're Free. [1]
Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Graphic Description of Anxiety, Hyungs Trying Thier Best, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, chanwoo is an anxious bean, please be careful when reading this, the author is projecting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-10 02:14:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15281337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vellichor_productions/pseuds/vellichor_productions
Summary: Chanwoo has anxietyor,the author is projecting





	Heave

**Author's Note:**

> please keep in mind that this fic is based on my own expirience with anxiety (and many aspects of my own life)
> 
> other than that, please read and leave kudos! comments are much appreciated!! should i make this a series? should i make a second part?

Every part of his day had gone according to plan, so Chanwoo really didn’t understand why he was feeling this way right now. He shuddered as _wrong_ started to slip up his spine, curling around his shoulder blades and settling deep in his chest. Chanwoo clenched his teeth and took a deep breathe in through his nose, _pull yourself together_. Then, quite suddenly, he was overly aware of the clock ticking on the wall, of the blood pulsing hard through his veins, the stifling heat of his bed sheets, of the silence of the empty dorm.

Ah, there’s the key word— _empty_. See, being alone at the dorm wasn’t unusual, everyone always had a schedule or something to do. It was different this time, because the dorm was too silent (even though it was just as quiet it had been the last time he was alone). Chanwoo was so sure something was wrong, something was off. A choked sound left his mouth as something icky and painful welled up inside him, threatening to tear open his chest and gut him and set his limbs aflame.

 _I shouldn’t be feeling this way_ , he thinks to himself, _nothing has gone wrong, I’m acting pitiful_. He tries to argue logic with himself, even as tears start to slip out and his face crumples, ugly sobs ripping out of his mouth. What was happening, why was this happening now? He shouldn’t be feeling this way, nothing was causing this, he wasn’t under stress, so why, why, why?

With shaking hands Chanwoo grasps his cellphone, trying to choke down the keening sound forcing its way out of his throat, and presses number one on speed dial. He waits and Hanbin’s voice filters through telling him to leave a message. He chokes and calls again and again and again. Then he dials Yunhyeong (he doesn’t answer), so he tries Jinhwan and Bobby, and then Junhoe, and then Donghyuk, and then Hanbin again.

No answer.

No answer.

 _No answer_.

Chanwoo wants to scream. Wants to hug himself tight and claw at the flesh on his arms till he bleeds (until the horrible ugly wrong feeling leaves). Wants to implode and not exist because anything must be better than whatever is happening to him right now.

He wants to pretend that he doesn’t know what is happening to him right now, but he knows very well. He remembers the first time it happened (at summer camp when one of the counselors yelled at him) and he remembers going to a therapist. He remembers explaining the incident, the burning in his throat stealing his words, and his mother’s judgemental eyes watching him with a menacing gleam (don’t tell the therapist what happens at home, you’ll get mommy in trouble). Chanwoo also remembers being diagnosed with GAD, general anxiety disorder, and he remembers explaining it to Hanbin after they debuted and the leader found him wheezing under the covers of his bed.

The buzzing of his phone brings him back to the present and he grasps his cell with shaking hands, fumbling to answer the call. “--anwoo-yah, now's not really a good time. Please tell me it’s something important and not that you called just to pester,” Hanbin’s raspy voice says.

Suddenly it hits Chanwoo that he’s being dumb. Being a big baby. He was wasting people’s time and should stop trying to seek attention. Hanbin hangs up after Chanwoo’s silence and the dial tone makes his world spin. He curls onto his side, knees held to his chest, and bites down hard on his hand to stifle a wail (you don’t want the neighbors to think something is wrong, do you).

He doesn’t know how long his episode lasts, only that he feels strangely empty afterward. Hollow and echoey and paper thin, as if someone just scooped out his insides and left him out to dry on a clothesline. Chanwoo stays there on his, curled on his side and counting how many times the clock ticks for a long while.

The silence is shattered (but not the haze the covers him, unfortunately) when the door opens and the laughter of six other people fills the rooms and hallways.

Chanwoo heaves himself to a standing position, feeling as shaky and wisp-like and breakable as a dead leaf, and leaves his room. He heads towards the living room and just before he enters, he reminds himself, _t_ _here’s no room for your weakness in this world_.


End file.
